


Transdimensional Boggarts

by JellyfishOnACloud



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Doctor Who, Harry Potter - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: But they don't belong there, Crack, Ensemble Cast, Everyone goes to Hogwarts, Gen, Multiple Crossovers, Multiple Pov, Tags May Change, de-ageing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-07-07 16:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15911742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyfishOnACloud/pseuds/JellyfishOnACloud
Summary: The protagonists of Buffy, Supernatural, Doctor Who, and the MCU wake up in the Room of Requirement, all 11 years old, memories intact, with no idea how they got there and none of their powers or equipment. Shenanigans ensue.





	1. [lipstick, smoke, and shadows]

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that the characters are taken from varying and not up-to-date points in their own timelines.

Meg's first thought was utter outrage that she'd been unconscious in the first place. She snapped her eyes open and jumped to her feet, coiling her power ready to use. At least she would have if she had any power to coil. Meg didn't panic, she didn't even freak out a little, she just happened to have trouble breathing and focusing all of a sudden. It happens.  
  
She pulled herself together over the extra-freaky fact that she shouldn't _have_ to breathe. This was something to be solved, not panicked over. A quick self check determined that she was bound to her meatsuit, which happened to be about ten. Ugh. She wasn't Lilith, she'd never understood the appeal of an underaged vessel, you couldn't do anything fun, or even reach high shelves without telekinesis. Which she now didn't have.  
  
Fuck.  
  
She looked around. She was standing in a large open room, surrounded by at least fifty kids, all about ten, in various states of consciousness. So she was one of the first up then. Good.  
  
First order of business was defence. Which meant offence, aka sharp things. Another quick survey of the room revealed a fireplace, and with it one of those iron pointy things. Iron didn't bother her anymore, which was both good in this circumstance and utterly disconcerting.  
  
Now that she had a sharp pointy thing she could move on to step two: assessing the situation. She walked over to where a red haired kid was waking up very quickly. She poked the kid with her poker, lightly of course. The kid didn't react well. Her poker was twisted out of her grasp and she somehow ended up on her knees in a chokehold with her arm behind her back. Meg responded by twisting farther and biting the kids arm hard as she could. The kid, a girl judging by the shriek of pain (which was delightful, as was the blood on her teeth), let go of her neck, but pushed Meg onto the ground with her foot and pulled her arm up higher, which hurt. Meg ignored her arm and rolled away, kicking the girl's legs out from under her. The girl rolled and jumped back up, Meg tackled her to the ground and started pummelling her face.  
  
She grinned savagely when she felt the girl's nose shatter, even as her own knuckle split from the force.  
  
Someone grabbed her from behind and dragged her off the girl. She struggled, but couldn't get away. Another two kids, one boy skinny and blond, the other dark and lean, got behind the redhaired girl and restrained her too, which was good because she looked like she wanted to savagely murder Meg. So Meg winked at her.  
  
To her left was a nondescript brown haired boy, and to her right was...  
  
"Clarence?" she asked, eyeing the scruffy black hair and tan trenchcoat. Really it couldn't be anyone but her favourite angel, except for the distinct lack of angel-ness. Guess everyone got depowered then.  
  
True to form, he squinted and tilted his head. Awww, wasn't that just pukeworthy adorable. And yep, hanging around not two feet away was baby Dean and baby Sammy. Glaring at her, wasn't that sweet.  
  
"Meg," Cas acknowledged with a nod.  
  
Meg turned to look at the other kid holding her. "You know you can let me go now. I won't bite. Much."  
  
He glared and exchanged a look with Clarence, then let go and wandered off, presumably to find friends of his own in the noisy mass of smelly humans.  
  
The girl she beat up (and got beaten up by but lets not talk about that) was gone, as were the kids who held her back. Whatever. She'd find them if she needed to.  
  
"In charge are you? Good for you," she said, turning back to Cas. Who was walking away from her. Rude. She followed, wasn't like she knew anyone else around here.  
  
The baby Winchesters were talking with two other kids. Cas positioned himself about three inches from Dean, which was highly unusual behaviour for those two. He was like a duckling really. A hot, currently chibified, angelic duckling.  
  
Meg hung back, far away enough that she wasn't threatening, but close enough that she could hear them and follow if they moved. Because hello, demon, not like they were going to accept her without a whole lot of trouble. And she so didn't care to deal with that right now. She had bigger problems. Like the bruises she had all over that she could actually feel, which majorly sucked, and that wasn't even a big problem. What it implied was a bigger problem than that.  
  
Okay enough self-pity. Moving on.  
  
It was hard to see through the swarm of people, but there didn't seem to be any doors out of the big room. Furniture wasn't in vogue apparently, cause so far she'd seen one sofa and that was all. Her poky stick was gone too. The room was noisy, if ever there was a time to use the term 'cacophony' it would be now. No one would shut up, and she wished so much that she could just slam them all into walls repeatedly.  
  
Mini-Dean was still not saying anything important, mostly just bitching about their newfound tinyness and inability to find any doors. Mini-Sammy wasn't any more help, and here she thought he was the brains of the department, well, such as it is. And Clarence was silent. But squinting again, so he probably had thoughts in his tiny angelic head. Duckling thoughts.  
  
Wow. She was getting bored out of her skull and frustrated as fuck. Time to throw caution to the metaphysical wind. She sauntered (because why not) towards the group. Oh look, more glares.  
  
"Howdy tiny-people," she said, hands on hips, "I'm here to help."  
  
"Help? When do you ever help?" spat Dean. Someone's holding a grudge.  
  
"Are you still mad about the time I took your brother for a spin? Cause he's a pretty neat ride. So tall. Well, was anyway." Ooh, watching them simmer under the skin was damn intoxicating. And they wondered why she liked riling them up.  
  
"If you're not going to be helpful then fuck off," said the blond girl. She looked vaguely familiar.  
  
"Didn't I torture you once?" she asked, "Oh yeah, same time I rode Sammy." Teeth clenched and ground. Wasn't that a glorious noise? Made her all warm and fuzzy inside.  
  
"Meg," Cas said. It was a quiet sound in comparison, with none of the growl or grit he had in a grown-up meatsuit, but it was still low and commanding. It was an order, it said stop, focus, report. Following the command was almost instinct. She loved and hated it, kind of like everything about him really.  
  
Had the situation been less dire, and she'd been in her proper meatsuit, she'd have made an inappropriate comment. But this wasn't the time. This was time to turn soldier.  
  
"Alright. I scoped out the place. No visible exits. There are over fifty other people, all ten, of various genders and ethnicity. I saw at least one visible non-human. The girl I fought was combat trained, which means that its likely most people here are too. Both Clarence and I have been stripped of power and bound to our meatsuits. Which really sucks."  
  
"We should explore thoroughly. Maybe there's some way out or a clue somewhere," said Sam. She liked working with Sam. He could multitask and ignore personal discomfort, really made you want to poke him with a stick till he snapped. Mind you, last time she worked with him she'd been stabbed, not really Sam's fault, but still.  
  
"Unless it's a prison," said the boy wearing a cap, "Would explain why everyone here's a soldier."  
  
True, but they had to get everyone in somehow, which means there's a way to get out. She said as much to them.  
  
"Spellwork perhaps?" suggested Cas.  
  
"That's Ruby's domain, not mine. And you guy's killed that chance," Meg said, mostly to watch them squirm again.  
  
"Except that we're here. We've been dead a while," pointed out Blondie, gesturing to herself and the kid with the cap. Oh yeah, Blondie blew herself up that time with the Hellhounds. Wasted some perfectly healthy hell-puppies.  
  
Dean was scowling at Meg so hard she thought his face would crack, and wouldn't that be hilarious. Actually, why hadn't he shot her yet? She'd said she was powerless right now, and he hadn't so much as twitched for a gun. Not that she minded, she liked being intact, but it begged the question.  
  
"Your weapons were confiscated weren't they? Angel blades and everything," she said, "Something's scared of us I think."  
  
There was a Hellish screech, so loud that she dropped to a fighting stance. As did practically everyone else. A huge double door appeared out of fucking nowhere on the south wall and opened. Then someone started talking, an adult male.  
  
She couldn't see what was going on because there were twenty odd people just standing in the way. Dean started pushing his way forward to see, so of course his whole entourage followed. Including Meg, much to her own disgust.  
  
She brushed past someone, drawing her attention to the fact that her arm still really hurt. She'd been in Hell thousands of years, she could deal with pain, but she was supposed to be healed already and she wasn't quite sure how to deal with the fact that she wasn't. How did humans normally heal anyway? Just wait? That was annoying.  
  
The man she'd heard was old. About eighty at least, kinda pale, with a really long white beard and dressed in sparkly pajamas, a nightrobe or something. She snorted at the sight.  
  
Someone squealed, then apologised.  
  
The old guy spoke up again, addressing the crowd as a whole, "Welcome to Hogwarts. If everyone could just follow me we can begin the Sorting Ceremony. The other children are already waiting." He sounded kindly, if there was such a thing.  
  
"Before we go anywhere, care to explain exactly what the fuck Hogwarts is? And who are you?" someone in the crowd spoke up, thankfully. Unfortunately someone else in the crowd whispered the answer to them, oldie just chuckled. Who the fuck even chuckles. She wanted to kill someone right about now.  
  
If she was going to ask anyone for an explanation, it'd be Sam, the least objectionable of Team Winchester and Co. Luckily she didn't have to, Sam explained the whole situation to Cas, who was more clueless than she was, loud enough for her to hear.  
  
So they were stuck in a fictional magic land. Lovely. She, and most others, followed him warily.  
  
They were in a castle, a huge one, with stone floors and walls, moving portraits along the walls, and the occasional suit of armour. Fancy. They went through four corridors and down two sets of irritable stairs before arriving at... wherever they were.


	2. [oil, leather, and gunpowder]

It was a really big room. There were four long tables with a lot of kids sitting there staring expectantly, a table along the back wall where the teachers sat, the roof opened to show the sky, only that made no sense being this was a freaking castle and they'd come from upstairs, and candles floated.  
  
A door behind that table, and the huge swinging double doors they'd come through were the only exits.  
  
Dean's motley crew marched forward with the others, towards the back of the room to where a cranky old lady and a bunch of ten year olds in black robes stood. Witches man, they're freaking creepy. Still, this was their best bet for figuring out what the fuck was happening and getting out. No way was he going to magic class though, were they even capable of it? Dumbles seemed to think so, so whatever.  
  
When they were all nice and cramped trying to all fit in the comparatively narrow space between the teachers table and the long tables, the cranky lady put a three legged stool on the ground in front of them, and put an old shabby wizard hat on it. It was very ugly, and probably unhygenic.  
  
Everyone was quiet for a moment, just staring at the hat. Understandable really, considering the appearance of the thing. Then, a tear near the brim of the hat opened, and the hat started singing.  
  
He wasn't sure whether to burst out laughing or continue to stare in abject horror. Either way, he was scarred for life. The song seemed to go on forever, and it wasn't even very good.  
  
Eventually it stopped, and the whole hall started applauding. Well, everyone except the other 'first years' like himself, who were kind of busy processing what just happened.  
  
The grouchy lady pulled out and unrolled a huge scroll, a freaking scroll, made of actual parchment. These people were clearly insane.  
  
"When I call your name," she said to them, "You will put on the hat, and sit on the stool. When the Hat announces you house, you will go and sit at the appropriate table. Ackerly, Stewart!"  
  
A boy walked forward, poor kid was shaking head to tiny foot, put on the hat and sat on the stool. The hat was huge on him, it was so big it covered his eyes.  
  
"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted. Which was really freaky, and Dean was NOT looking forward to his turn. He really hated witches. He supposed these weren't the kind of witches he was used to, but they were still freaky and damn it he was allowed to be freaked.  
  
The boy, Stewart Ackerly, took off the hat and ran off to the blue table. Everyone at that table was applauding him.  
  
Cas was still right next to him, in fact he'd abandoned the concept of personal space entirely and was just pressed shoulder to shoulder with him. Dean couldn't bring himself to say anything because, A: it was Cas, he was probably just as freaked as he was and needed the comfort even if he did look stoic as ever, B: he probably wouldn't even understand why it was an issue, and C: it was really squishy anyway. He himself was basically standing on Sam.  
  
"Acocasahe, Koschei!" What the holy shit kind of name was that? Fuck.  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
Meg had apparently decided that she was part of their group, and was standing on Cas' other side trying to look casual. It wasn't working, especially since she was currently about ten so her usual poise just looked cute. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, he wanted to wake up with all body parts intact thank you very much.  
  
Dean turned his attention to Sammy, who was geeking out. Apparently the concept of going back to school in magic-land was too much for his baby brother. There was a huge grin plastered on his face as he goggled at absolutely everything. Dean was beginning to worry for his sanity.  
  
"Banner, Bruce!" Heh, alliterative name, parents were probably comic book geeks.  
  
"RAVENCLAW!" Oh so he was geek too? Okay.  
  
Sammy would probably go to the nerd house. Which probably meant that he and Dean would be seperated, being that there was no way in hell Dean qualified for the nerd house. That made it a little trickier to conspire, but it really depended on where they went. He couldn't figure out where Cas should go though.  
  
"Barnes, James!"  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
For that matter, where would Bobby go? Or Jo? Damn but it was good seeing them alive again. Kind of weird that they were prepubescent and the same age as him, but he'd take what he could get at this point. Jo was adorable as a kid, and Bobby was nearly unrecognisable. It was only by virtue of that damn cap that he'd noticed him at all. He was still grumpy as ever though.  
  
He looked around the group. He didn't see anyone else he recognised, but the group was so big that without his usual height advantage that was no real surprise. There was no sign of the girl Meg wailed on earlier either, though she seemed able to hold her own. He had no idea what happened there and was really not inclined to ask. She was a demon after all, depowered or not, she probably just decided to be a sadistic bitch.  
  
"Bradbury, Charlene!"  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
What? Charlie was alive? And okay? And out of Oz? He stood on tiptoes to get a good look at her. She was ten just like everyone else, obviously, and she looked good. Excited to the point of insanity just like Sam, too. She'd cut her hair, it was almost a boy's haircut now, but with a long fringe. It suited her, oddly.  
  
He waved as she ran off to the Gryffindor table. She paused to wave back then mouthed something he didn't catch. He'd talk to her later anyway.  
  
There were so many people to be sorted he just kinda tuned out.  
  
The next thing he knew he was jerked awake as Cas moved forward. Who knew you could sleep standing up?  
  
Cas stood next to the stool and just glared at the hat, presumably trying to figure out its eternal secrets without actually touching it.  
  
"Sit down, Mr DeElo," said the grumpy lady. DeElo, eh? What kind of last name was that? And who assigned it?  
  
Sam whispered in Dean's ear, "That's Enochian for 'of God'"  
  
Oh.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
So the question as to who brought them here was narrowed down, because it had to have been someone with the power to make fiction real, turn them into kids, and knew enochian. That was like a neon sign pointing to Archangels.  
  
"DeElo, Lucifer!"  
  
Dean just blanked out.  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
What. THE FUCKING DEVIL HIMSELF got the _marshmallow house_? And what the fuck was he even doing here? He was supposed to be locked up in the Cage! Was Michael out too? Suddenly the list for possible culprits was looking awfully small. The only possibilities he knew of that could inflict this on Lucifer were God, and Death.  
  
Since God had been AWOL for years if he even ever existed at all, and Death had no motive other than shits and giggles which just wasn't his style, he was left with zip. Zilch. Nada.  
  
The rest of the sorting went by in kind of a blur. The highlights were Gabriel, Jo, Meg, and Bobby. And he couldn't even remember where the hell they went.  
  
"Winchester, Dean!"  
  
He wasn't nervous at all when the hat slipped over his eyes so he couldn't even see the damn hall.  
  
"Hmmm, difficult. Not the most difficult I've had tonight but still not simple." He could feel the damn thing rummaging around in his head, and wasn't that the freakiest thing ever.  
  
"Just hurry up."  
  
"Patience is a virtue. Though not the one you have in most abundance. Plenty of courage, though perhaps mixed with recklessness, a sharp mind too. Oh but that's not what runs you."  
  
Dean almost groaned. Almost.  
  
"Family. That which drives everything you do. Unyielding loyalty to those closest to you. Which puts you in... HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
It fucking figures. He scowled, tossed the hat back on the stool and stomped off to join Lucifer and the stupidly named yellow people.  
  
"Winchester, Sam!"  
  
Dean paid close attention to this one. Sam ended up under the hat for by far the longest time, almost a solid five minutes. The grin had faded from his brother's face, though he didn't look unhappy. He wished he knew what was being said.  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
What? Sorry, WHAT?! Some of the kids at his table looked at him, he must have yelled out loud, though he couldn't bring himself to care. The Devil Himself escaped that bad guy house but his baby brother didn't? What the goddamn fucking shit-


	3. [moonlight, strings, silence]

Oz only jumped a tiny bit when the boy next to him shouted. Well, next to was subjective. He was far enough away that another person could sit between them, but there wasn't anyone there. He put his jumpiness down to being a kid again, hormones and whatnot.  
  
The boy looked disturbed and angry. "He your brother?" Oz asked, trying to help.  
  
"Yeah." the boy answered with gritted teeth.  
  
"Dean, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'm Oz." Dean nodded once, a jerky motion hindered by the fact that he was glaring at the blond kid sitting alone at the very end of the table.  
  
Clearly he didn't want to talk, so Oz wasn't going to push it. He'd talk when he was ready, Oz understood that.  
  
The Headmaster was talking, but Oz wasn't really listening, he'd read the books and knew how this worked. He still wasn't quite sure what year it was, but he could figure that out as he went.  
  
Food appeared on the table, and Dean blinked at the food confusedly, before shrugging and digging in. Oz smiled amusedly. Opposite him was a boy wearing a puffy vest and chatting with the boy to his left. Tara was sitting to Oz's right, looking around quietly and taking polite bites of food. He liked Tara, you never knew quite how much was going on in her head before she spoke.  
  
Opposite Dean was a broody kid with a metal arm, which was cool. He kept turning around to look at the skinny boy behind him.  
  
On Dean's other side, with plenty of distance between them, was a girl in a leather jacket. She had kinda the same feel as Faith, the tough, flirty, heavily armed and dangerous feel. Oddly enough, neither she nor the weird kid at the end of the table were eating. Just staring at the table.  
  
"Hey, Dean. What's up with them?" he asked, nodding at the two.  
  
Dean sighed and set down his fork, raking his hand through his hair. "They weren't human before this, I don't think they know what food is," he said.  
  
Oz raised an eyebrow. Not that he didn't believe him, he was a werewolf before after all, but if it was true why wasn't Dean helping them? Unless he just didn't like them.  
  
He saw the loner boy take an experimental bite at his food and figured they'd be alright. So Oz nodded at Dean and turned his attention to more important matters. Like figuring out his next move.  
  
It was probably an entity that was responsible for the current predicament, the chance of this happening to so many people at the same time was very slim unless it was planned. Perhaps knowing some more of the people involved would help figure it out.  
  
So far there was the Scooby Gang, and Angel Investigations, including newly resurrected people like Anya and Tara. They were the only people he actually knew anything about, but so far at least Dean knew about demons and extra-dimensional creatures, so perhaps that was a link. He'd have to ask several more people, something much easier done when everyone got settled.  
  
Whilst going to magic classes would be interesting, not that they even had wands yet, it was far more prudent to just cut classes, explore, and interrogate people.  
  
The metal armed kid stabbed the table really hard, Oz jumped and stared. The skinny kid had also migrated to metal-arm's right. Metal-arm grinned at him savagely, something crazy sparking in his eyes. Oz looked away, disturbed.  
  
Anyway, Willow would probably have a plan, he'd meet up with her tomorrow. Right now she was at the table behind him, Ravenclaw, and she was chatting animatedly with two boys who seemed to actually keep up with her, which was frankly amazing. Oz could, but he was a man of few words and when Willow got going she needed verbal input. Seemed like Ravenclaw was the house of crazy geniuses.  
  
Of course, the presence of Willow begged the question as to whether or not her type of magic would still work here, if she still had the ability at all, or whether every supernatural power had been replaced with Harry Potter's brand of magic.  
  
The rumble of chatter was replaced with silence such that nothing but the pouring rain could be heard. Oz looked up to the teachers table, where Dumbledore was standing up.  
  
The Headmaster went through some fairly standard announcements to do with the forbidden forest and banned objects, and then he got to the interesting bit. The Quidditch Cup was cancelled.  
  
There were appropriate gasps of horror throughout the hall, then Dumbledore continued.  
  
"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy. But I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"  
  
The doors of the Great Hall slammed open. And there in the doorway stood a man who could only be Mad-Eye Moody. Which meant that this was year four for Harry Potter, the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Yeah, even knowing that it wasn't really Moody, the magic eye was still very unnerving.  
  
And here lie another big question, should they try to alter events? Was there mere presence going to change things enough that their foreknowledge was rendered worthless?  
  
Moody sat down and Dumbledore cleared his throat.  
  
"As I was saying," the Headmaster continued, smiling, "We are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, and even which has not been held in over a century. It is my very great pleasure to announce that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."  
  
"You're JOKING!" someone said loudly. Most everyone laughed, and even Dumbledore chuckled.  
  
"I am not joking, Mr Weasley, though now you mention it I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar-"  
  
McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.  
  
"Er - but maybe this is not the time... no... Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament, well some of you will not know what this Tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."  
  
As Oz already knew all this, he did exactly that.  
  
"We have to save him," Tara said softly. She was looking at the teenage boy who could only be Cedric Diggory.  
  
Cedric's death had never really affected him when he'd read it, he'd only cared about it because of its impact on Harry. But actually seeing the kid as a real person? That changed things.  
  
"Yeah," he replied. What other choice did they have now, really? This wasn't just a story anymore. Not for them.  
  
"What do we do?" she asked. Really this was a matter they needed to brainstorm, the whole Scooby Gang.  
  
"First we figure out how to take out Moody. He's the crux of this whole thing."  
  
She shook her head, "If our kind of magic still works we can deal easily. But I don't think it will, and I don't know how else to try."  
  
"We should regroup in the morning."  
  
Tara nodded her agreement. There wasn't much else to say that was relevant, and neither of them were talkative. They listened in to the end of Dumbledore's speech until the Prefect, Cedric, rounded up all the first years and led them out.  
  
Their line had just walked out the Great Hall when Tara took off. This being completely out of character without good reason, Oz followed.


	4. [silk and bone, a whisper of magic]

Tara spotted the two obviously distressed boys standing in a corner and ran towards them before she even registered what she was seeing. There was a time not too long ago when she would have quietly pointed them out to someone else, too unsure to do anything else. Perhaps death had made her bold.  
  
As she got closer she saw what was wrong. The dark haired boy had checked out, completely placid, blank, and dead-eyed. Eerily still. The blonde boy was scared, hesitant to touch him, calling his name over and over.  
  
Tara moved to touch the blonde boy's shoulder, and quick as lightning a metal arm shot out and slammed her hand out of the way. Pain shot through her wrist. The boy's face was still utterly blank as he stared at her.  
  
"Bucky stand down!," the blonde boy said, "Oh my god, are you alright, miss? Is your hand okay? Do you need to see a nurse?"  
  
"I'm fine, I'm okay. Thank y-you," said Tara, clutching her hand to her chest. It hurt, but nothing seemed broken.  
  
The dark haired boy, Bucky, was still a statue. Not a trace of any emotion, nor even an acknowledgement that he'd moved. It was really strange, and creepy. She wasn't scared, though maybe she should be.  
  
"What happened?" she asked, "To Bucky I mean."  
  
"Are you one of our group?" he asked, "The big group that came in later?"  
  
"Yes. I'm Tara."  
  
"Steve. We were talking about this situation, and he just shut off. He's not exactly stable to begin with, he's been through hell. He was getting better though, he- he was-" he cut himself off, wiping his face. He took a deep breath.  
  
"Sorry, miss. Don't know what's wrong with me."  
  
"I-If our bodies are kids, our minds might be t-too. It could mess with our emotions. That might be why Bucky is having more of a problem now."  
  
He nodded, looking at his friend, who was no longer a dead eyed statue. Bucky was staring over her left shoulder. She followed his gaze. Oz was standing there, silently.  
  
She put her hands up, "I'm Tara, this is Oz. We're here to help, if you want. Is that okay, Bucky?"  
  
He turned back to her, and his head twitched. With that one motion, he seemed to come to life, his face showing fear and confusion, his hands fidgeting.  
  
"Okay?" he frowned, confused "I... do not..."  
  
"Take it s-s-slow."  
  
"You. Are hurt," he said, looking at her bruised hand, "Did I do that?"  
  
She hesitated for a moment. On one hand, it was his fault, and he could have hurt her far worse than these paultry bruises. On the other hand, he had enough problems, she didn't want to pile guilt onto what was probably an already extensive list.  
  
Apparently her silence was answer enough though. His face flickered through rage, despair, and the utter blankness of earlier, before finally settling on apologetic.  
  
He nodded and shifted his shoulders, hiding his metal arm behind his back.  
  
"Its okay, it's not your fault. I'm fine, see?"  
  
He gave her a look. A look that said 'you're full of shit'. "I am sorry. It will not happen again."  
  
Bucky stared over Tara's shoulder again. Glaring daggers was probably a more appropriate term, actually.  
  
"I'll go find a teacher to guide us to our dormitory's alright?" Oz said, standing up. He didn't seem to take it personally, which was good. Tara nodded her agreement.  
  
She didn't really know what to do now. The immediate problem was solved.  
  
After a few minutes, Steve spoke up. "Thanks, you know, for helping." He offered a tentative smile.  
  
She smiled shyly and ducked her head, "I've been through stuff too. A Hell God decided it'd be fun to send me crazy. So, I know what its like, kind of."  
  
"Hell God?" Steve's eyebrows nearly met his hairline.  
  
"Called herself Glory. She was... not nice. Wanted to collapse two universes just to get to a home that kicked her out."  
  
"Well, I fought an alien invasion in New York along with my Superhero friends. Your story isn't that much crazier."  
  
"Aliens?" She hadn't heard anything about that. Seemed kind of important. Might have happened after she died though.  
  
Holy shit, she'd died. Good and proper. Dead dead. She didn't remember anything though, not like Buffy had. Maybe that said something about the resurrection whatever brought them here used? Was she even real? Or just a construction with Tara's memories?  
  
A hand brushed her shoulder. Bucky's, he was watching her. Generously, she labelled his expression as concern. She smiled at him, best she could.  
  
"You alright?" asked Steve.  
  
She could have laughed. What did it matter about her? She was just a dead girl, he was the one with the crazy, near catatonic friend.  
  
She nodded instead.  
  
Bucky snapped his attention to the doorway seconds before Oz walked back into the corridor, followed by Professor McGonnagall.  
  
"Is everyone alright?" McGonnagall asked.  
  
"We're okay now, thanks," Steve replied. Tara nodded, her hand didn't even hurt anymore.  
  
"Let a teacher know if you need assistance, Madam Pomfrey's hospital wing is available at all hours and also treats mental wounds. The head of your respective houses are also always open to talk."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Alright, if you three would follow me I'll lead you to the Hufflepuff Dormitory. Mr Rogers, Professor Flitwick will be here momentarily to lead you to the Gryffindor Dormitory. Are you alright to wait on your own?"  
  
"Yes, maam," Steve said, promptly. He turned to Tara, "Look after him," he whispered. He probably meant to say it gently, a request, but it came out more as an order.  
  
She nodded curtly. She could do that.  
  
The Hufflepuff Dorm wasn't far, as it turned out, and she thought she recognised the secret passage to the kitchens as they passed it.  
  
She had to keep turning to see if Bucky was still there he was so quiet. He walked like Buffy did, alert, ready to move, slight swagger despite the quiet sure steps. He was a soldier, no doubt.  
  
Three barrels tapped in order and they were in. It was a huge circular room, curved bookshelves with plants next to them lined one side. A fireplace was to their left, comfy yellow chairs positioned in front of it. It was very cozy. Straight ahead were the stairs that led to the bedrooms.  
  
"Boys up the stairs to the left, girls to the right," McGonnagall said, stopping in the middle of the room.  
  
"Thank you Professor," Tara said, "Have a good night."  
  
"You as well, dear," she replied, smiling as she took her leave.  
  
Oz bid her goodnight too, heading up the stairs. Bucky was way too still, quickly checking out the room. Not for comfort levels, Tara would bet.  
  
"Want to come to bed? I'll show you the way," She offered him. She watched him think, his expression settling on dubious. She had to keep an eye on him though, and they really had to sleep.  
  
"We could just sleep out here, I'll grab blankets from the room," she said. He nodded, once.  
  
She smiled and raced up the stairs, through the door on the right. There were quite a few beds here, ten in total. Nine of which were occupied, seven of whom's occupants had the curtains drawn. She grabbed the blankets and pillows off the empty bed and ran back down the stairs, trying not to trip over and hoping he hadn't ran off.  
  
He hadn't, but he had hidden in the shadows between the bookshelves. She settled the blankets down near the wall on the side with the fireplace, far enough that it wouldn't catch fire or get them trod on in the morning.  
  
She made herself comfortable in their new nest, taking the spot farthest from the wall so he could feel safer, and tried to sleep. She wasn't trying to treat him like a spooked rabbit per say, but it was an apt analogy. Thing is, that's how she felt when she'd gotten scrambled half the time.  
  
She felt the blanket tug a little as he settled right up against the wall, and let herself drift off.


	5. [steel and blood and echoes]

The soldier awoke suddenly, completely disoriented. This wasn't so unusual. What was unusual was the temperature, it was warm.  
  
He stood. Where the hell was he? There was a sleeping girl under the blanket in front of him. He moved so he could see her face. She looked vaguely familiar.  
  
There was no one else in the room. Maybe she was his handler? Not possible, she was a child. Upon second look, so was he. Weird.  
  
Memories rushed in like sea foam, echoing and bubbling. There were still gaps though. He hadn't had memory issues like this for a few months. And again the only solid thing from... before... was Steve. He was starting to hate that guy.  
  
He crossed the room. There were bookshelves lining the opposite wall, maybe one would explain what the fuck was happening. He settled back against the wall where he woke up, book in hand, and read.  
  
By the time the girl woke up he had five open books in front of him and a small stack beside him.  
  
"Bucky," she said softly to him. Bucky, that was his name wasn't it? "What'chu doing?" She spoke softly and gently, and casually. She wasn't _concerned_ , just interested. It was still a request for a mission report.  
  
He looked up from his work, "Gathering intel."  
  
"Found anything?"  
  
His mouth curved a little without his permission. "Preliminary data indicates that current residence is a semi-sentient labyrinth surrounded by castle walls. Multiple secret passageways traverse both the inside of the castle as well as to a nearby village.  
  
"The form of magic within this reality revolves around words and sticks, with few exceptions. Break the stick, disable the voice, their power is rendered negligible. The older ones teleport, always accompanied by a cracking noise.  
  
"As for our situation, no current suspects, no solutions as yet."  
  
That was an overview, if she wanted anything specific she'd ask. As it was she was looking a little shocked. Possibly because that was the most words he'd strung together in months, and he hadn't said anything at all to her yesterday as far as he could remember.  
  
"Wow," she said after a beat, "You've been working."  
  
He nodded and looked back at his books, trying to cross reference several texts on the layout of this castle to construct a rudimentary map. The place was fucking huge, and kept moving, subtly. It probably hated its inhabitants.  
  
If it were a full consciousness, like Stark's building, it might be reasoned with. Nothing he'd read indicated it was self aware though.  
  
The girl shifted, stood up, stretched, looked around. Now that there was an awake inhabitant in the room he found it hard to focus on the books. Hyper-vigilance had its disadvantages.  
  
"You hungry?" she asked him.  
  
He nodded again, standing. Kids started filtering down the stairs. All of the children were wearing long black coats made of a soft, flowing material. A monastery uniform perhaps?  
  
The girl was looking at the clothes too. "We should get dressed too. Will we have wands, I wonder?"  
  
He frowned. Wands were associated with the mythological magic of Europe and Great Britain. He followed her up the stairs.  
  
"These are the girls dorms. I'm gonna go get dressed. The boys dorm is there," she pointed at the door opposite, "If you want to wait for me, I'll go with you."  
  
He nodded his understanding. She smiled gently and went through her door.  
  
He turned around swiftly as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. A nondescript and familiar boy exited the dorm.  
  
"Morning, Bucky. How are you feeling this morning?"  
  
Error. Recommend polite caution.  
  
"I'm good thank you."  
  
The boy's eyebrows went up, "That's really good. You're bed's in here, the one that's still properly made."  
  
The soldier, Bucky his name was Bucky, nodded.  
  
The boy left.  
  
He presumed that the belongings assigned to him were in the large wooden trunk at the end of the aforementioned bed. There were two sets of the black robes. He put one on. Several books, various antiquated school supplies, several bizarre items, and a wooden stick. He guessed that this was the wand in question. He tucked it into his belt.  
  
The girl was waiting for him.  
  
The roof of the Great Hall was a bright and sunny day. How the everloving fuck did the ground floor of a multistory building open up to the sky?  
  
Steve was sitting at the rightmost table, with a dark skinned boy to his left and a redhead to his right. Both looked familiar. Steve noticed him and the girl enter straight away, smiled and waved, then went back to talking.  
  
Bucky looked to the girl for input. "Where would you like to sit?" she asked him.  
  
Some handler she was. How the fuck was he supposed to know where to sit? He barely knew where he was!  
  
Analyse.  
  
The black robes had a small yellow emblem. The table second from the right had the highest number of children with yellow emblems. Tactically unsound position, too open. Ditto for the third from the right. That left the leftmost and rightmost tables. Children's positioning at tables mostly determined by age group. No chance of evading Steve if he sat at the rightmost table. He would be expected to be James Buchanan Barnes. Leftmost table surrounded by unknowns.  
  
The devil you know.  
  
He sat opposite Steve and Co. His handler sat next to him, appraising the group with a cunning she didn't seem capable of. Still gentle though. Always gentle and small, this one was, despite her height and solid figure. She'd probably pack a decent punch if push came to shove.  
  
"Hello Barnes. Who's your friend?" Red asked him.  
  
Fuck, he didn't remember her name. Did he learn it? He didn't remember yesterday at all.  
  
"I'm Tara," she answered for him.  
  
"Nice to meet you, Tara," said the dark skinned boy, "I'm Sam. This is Natasha, and I'm told you already met Steve."  
  
"Y-yes." She stuttered, clearly she had a speech impediment, presumably mildly impacted by nerves or stressors. No impact on effective communication.  
  
Red was subtly appraising him. Her name was Natasha, his brain wanted to call her Natalia. He did not know why. He would continue calling her Red, it suited her better anyway.  
  
He was eating, more like shovelling, an ungodly amount of pancakes when another child sat down on the other side of his handler. He put his fork down and glared daggers at the newcomer.  
  
She was red-haired, pixielike, and way too enthusiastic and handsy. She squeaked something that sounded vaguely english and hugged Tara for way too long, and when she finally let go she sat with her shoulder all pressed up against Tara's.  
  
He briefly looked over at Steve. Red and Sam were sitting a respectable distance away from him. Good.  
  
"Er, hi. I'm Willow, Tara's friend. Girlfriend. Friend?"  
  
"Nice to meet you, Willow," said Sam.  
  
More talking.  
  
Bucky glared harder, accidentally breaking the edge of the table with how hard he was gripping it. Damn metal hand. There was so much damn noise, more kids had shuffled into the room now, and the pixie girl was chattering happily to the only people he felt comfortable with. Honestly, he should probably leave before more tables suffer needlessly.  
  
Someone touched his hand, and Bucky started, his first instinct being to toss the offending individual across the room. Squashing that urge, he looked up. Steve was frowning concernedly at him. Something in Bucky's chest felt like it melted, he needed a diagnostic as soon as possible.  
  
"You alright, Buck?" Steve asked him, quietly. Bucky was still focused on the point where their hands met. It was strange, he couldn't remember the last time someone had made physical contact without trying to hurt him. He'd been shot, stabbed, punched, slapped, kicked, and stomped, but not so much as a comforting hand on the shoulder to counter it. Suddenly he understood why the pixie girl was playing cuddle-monster with his handler. It was... nice.  
  
"Bucky?" Steve asked again, more urgently this time. What was his problem? Oh, Steve was expecting oldfriendbucky. He knew how oldfriendbucky would act, it had detailed it in the museum. Carefree, jovial, loyal.  
  
"My name so nice you gotta say it twice?" he asked, smiling amusedly. Steve relaxed and grinned, letting go of his hand. The silly boy was only happy when he was someone else.  
  
The urge to throw him across the room faded. That was probably a good thing, although he couldn't figure out if he liked or hated Steve. Either way, he was the one point of familiarity here. Tara was quickly becoming another anchor, however.  
  
Then the pixie girl decided to engage him directly.  
  
"Huh?" Bucky replied eloquently, not having any idea what she just said.  
  
"I said, 'cool metal hand'," she repeated, fascinated with said hand. He was glad the robes had long sleeves.  
  
"Thanks," he said, pulling both arms onto his lap and sortof trying to hide behind Tara. The girl was way too intense.  
  
"Where're you from? I talked to a whole bunch of people who got pulled into here and they're from so many different places and times."  
  
Oldfriendbucky was deployed in 1952, died in 1954. "I'm from Brooklyn, 1950's. I was a soldier in World War 2."  
  
He felt everyone's stares at the bold-faced lie. Maybe he was imagining things. Pixie didn't notice anything though.  
  
"Wow. They had that kind of technology all the way back then?"  
  
"It's a long story."  
  
"I've got time."  
  
"I do not wish to tell it," he said, glaring at the impudent girl. Red looked ready to restrain him. He was both grateful and irritated that she felt it necessary.  
  
The pixie girl was pouting. Little brat. Why would anyone want to hear how his arm was amputated at the shoulder while he was awake and screaming? How it was bolted onto his bones and wired into his muscles?  
  
"Just drop it, Wil," said Tara.  
  
And how Stark, his friend Stark, had been the one to make the technology. How Zola had gloated about that. How he'd been forced to kill his friend. How he'd revelled in the kill, the horror only hitting him later. Freaking out at base, the pain of a reset. Screaming, screaming.  
  
He stood from the table and ran, not really sure where he was going.  
  
He tried not to drown.  
  
It was some time before he collected himself. The warmth and light radiating through the glass brought him back slowly.  
  
He heard footsteps below him. The damn skinny blonde punk had found him.  
  
"How the hell did you get up there?" Steve asked, looking up at the high embedded window Bucky had placed himself on. It was at least fifteen feet off the ground.  
  
Bucky just grinned at him. A proper one this time. In truth he barely remembered climbing up here, to busy being lost in his own head. But it was an excellent hiding place.  
  
He found a series of holes to grab on to as he climbed down. They looked oddly like someone had dug their hand into the mortar. Maybe he did that.  
  
"How are you?" Steve asked, the Frown of Ultimate Concern was back. Bucky didn't want to tell him, didn't want to make the frown worse. Besides, it was just his mind, he was physically fine.  
  
"I'm uninjured." Bucky replied, absolutely truthful.  
  
"How are you mentally, then?" Steve said, undeterred. He shuffled a little closer, still a good three feet away.  
  
"I'll be fine." Bucky tried. It wasn't like he could straight up lie, Steve would know in a heartbeat and he'd be back to square one.  
  
"Not what I asked. I'm worried about you, Buck. I want you to be safe, even in your own head."  
  
The damn melty feeling was back. Did this school labyrinth thing have a doctor's office somewhere?  
  
"I don't want you to worry." Bucky mumbled.  
  
"I'm going to anyway. I know you can't be okay, I don't expect you to be. But I want to help," he said, earnest.  
  
Maybe his insides were dissolving, that would be a serious issue. Would explain the new squeezing discomfort in his diaphragm.  
  
"You know I'm not _your_ Bucky, right? You call me that, even I call me that, but I'm not- I can't ever be him, I don't even remember ever being him."  
  
"You don't have to be. I'll accept whoever you are, and its totally up to you who you want to be. You only have from now till forever to decide that. But I promise I'll be here every step of the way, if you want me."  
  
Bucky made a weird choking noise and half-collapsed in Steve's arms.  
  
Hugs, he decided, were actually very good.


	6. [warmth of the hearth, strength of an oak]

Steve daren't move after Bucky fell asleep on his shoulder. They were sitting with their backs to the wall again. They'd just sat in comfortable silence for a while, saying something occasionally, while Bucky reconciled his own head and slowly forgot about the concept of personal space. It'd been about half an hour, then Bucky just put his head on Steve's shoulder and slept.

Honestly Steve was honoured at the show of trust. So he kept still and quiet, knowing that he needed the sleep. Also Steve was completely lost. He'd found Bucky's hiding spot half by accident, half cause he kept asking the paintings for directions, which was one of the strangest things he'd ever done. Considering his life that was really saying something.

Fighting aliens in the future had to go in his top 5, followed closely by the time he punched out a dinosaur that had a laser strapped to its forehead.

This place though, was really goddamn weird. For a start it was a magic school in a castle, which was mostly just cool, it was also fictional, although whether that meant that it had been made real or they had been made fictional was another question entirely. From what Sam had been saying, the magic castle also had a forest full of centaurs and a lake with a giant squid in it. And there were ghosts. And the goddamn paintings could talk. No wonder Bucky had freaked out.

God, he'd been looking for Bucky for months, starting to expect the worst, and then he wakes up as a child in a strange place and there he is, reaching for him like he'd seen a ghost. Then the moment'd been blown when Steve spoke and Bucky bolted. For the first few moments after Steve woke up, he thought the serum had just worn off. Well, technically it had, he supposed, he certainly wasn't super strong anymore. But he didn't have asthma or anything, but there was no reason to think that just because what had healed him was gone that the healing would reverse.

In his experience whenever bad guys started an evil plot they tended to act quickly, so by that logic whatever brought him and everyone else here should have either shown itself, or will soon. Hopefully it won't be a Nazi or a God this time. Oh shit what if its a Nazi God? No, Steve you're being ridiculous again. Back on track. What if there wasn't a plot? And that's why nothing was happening? It was too soon to draw conclusions.

First things first, explore and look for clues. That really wouldn't be easy, he had no idea what to look for. He didn't know anything that could have caused this situation. Maybe Thor would know something, or Tony. Better to just grab all the Avengers and brainstorm, really.

Here was another problem. Would Bucky be able to handle meeting and talking with all the Avengers in the same room? They were kind of an intense bunch at the best of times. But at the same time, could he leave Bucky alone? He seemed to have bonded with Tara, but she knew basically nothing about him. Two tables have already suffered for the people Bucky was relatively comfortable with saying something. Every conversation or physical movement could be a landmine. But maybe Steve wasn't giving Bucky enough credit, he'd been thrown into an incredibly unusual and helpless circumstance less than ten hours ago. Considering the complete lack of casualties, saving for Tara's bruised hand, Bucky's control has been incredible.

Bucky shot awake suddenly and was on his feet, clearly combat ready, before Steve knew what was happening. He heard footsteps down the hallway, headed towards them. Bucky pulled Steve back into the shadow on the other side of a set of armour. He put his hand over Steve's mouth. His eyes were intense, alert, and vaguely eerie. Probably because he wasn't blinking.

The footsteps got closer.

Steve knew that there was probably no need to be so cautious, at most it'd be a staff member who'd scold them for not being in class or something. The worst that would happen was a detention. But even so, he stayed put and said nothing. Because the tiny niggling soldier voice in the back of his mind kept saying what if. What if.

From where he was, against the wall right next to the statue, he couldn't see whoever it was. But he could hear them. Two vaguely high voices, which meant they were kids.

"It definitely wasn't a transmat, or a vortex manipulator jump. There's no indication that we even passed through the vortex."

"Maybe we didn't move. Maybe Hogwarts just sprung up around us. Except that doesn't make sense either because there were so many other people there! Ugh, this is frustrating!"

He looked at Bucky, who had the most hilarious 'WTF' face on in the history of 'WTF' faces. His own was probably similar, that jargon was worse than Tony's.

Bucky probably determined they weren't a threat, judging by how he finally removed his hand from Steve's mouth and dropped his arm. Steve savoured the sweet freedom. Bucky had a hell of a grip, he'd been basically pinned to the wall. Well, at least it wasn't the metal hand.

They passed by, the girl had dark skin, and black hair pulled back in a spiky ponytail. The boy was tan and wearing what looked like a longer version of Bucky's old coat.

Speaking of, where the hell did he go?

"Mine was bluer," Bucky said, appearing behind the boy. Steve followed.

The boy whirled around, eyeing them as Steve approached. "Hi, Captain Jack Harkness," he said, going for a handshake.

Steve took it, "Captain Steve Rogers, and this is Sergeant James Barnes. And you Ma'am?" he asked the girl.

"Dr Martha Jones, since we're going with titles," she said, smiling.

"Pleasure to meet you," Steve said, shaking her hand too.

"Where'd you serve?" Harkness asked, curious.

"World War 2."

Both their eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?" said Harkness, "When're you from?"

"Last I knew it was 2014."

"How old were you when you got nabbed?" Harkness asked. He was either nosey or trying to figure out something. Maybe both.

"Technically?" Steve replied, like the smartarse he is.

"Ah." Harkness said, as though his answer actually explained something.

"Time travel then?" asked Jones.

Time travel? That was a possibility? It looked like these two had experience with that though. Interesting.

Bucky snorted, "More like this moron crashed in the arctic and got his arse frozen for seventy years."

"Really, Bucky?" Steve said, without any real heat. It wasn't like he could actually get annoyed at him sounding the most like himself since the damn bridge.

"Seriously?" said Jones, disbelieving.

"Yeah seriously," Steve sighed. No one here was seeing him all super-steroided up, so he seemed the least impressive he ever had apart from the distinct lack of coughing up his lungs. What Erkstein said about it being his heart that mattered still counted, but it wasn't like anyone actually respected the sickly runt he was. Not even Bucky half the time.

"But you should have major organ damage at least from being defrosted, not to mention the brain damage. In an uncontrolled environment like that... blimey."

"Cap has a healing factor, enhanced strength, speed, and senses, and an attitude the size of Manhattan. Mind you he had that before the serum, scrappy lil guy I tell you," said Bucky, enjoying himself at Steve's expense.

"Serum?" asked Jones, getting excited. She'd probably start asking for data sheets and experiments next. Damn scientists.

"Except that whatever brought us here took that away," said Steve, "Where were you headed by the way?"

"To the library. Magic school's gotta have something relevant recorded, yeah?"

He nodded, "Good plan," he gestured to start walking. They filed two by two, with him and Jones up front. He was sure he could feel Bucky staring a hole in the back of his head.

"So," Harkness started, "What's with the metal arm?"

Steve really hoped this conversation wouldn't head down the same road as it did this morning.

Bucky twitched minutely, before intentionally relaxing his shoulders. "Its a prosthetic obviously. Real arm got chopped off to the elbow, evil Nazi scientists chopped off the rest and got me this one."

"I'm sorry. So, Nazis eh? Better then big pepper pots I guess."

"Pots?" Bucky asked.

"Aliens called Daleks. They're ugly little cyclops octopus' so they spend their lives in metal casings. A race of genocidal maniacs hell bent on violently murdering anything different to themselves."

"So, space Nazis."

The library was amazing. The rows of books literally went from the floor to the roof, and they were overflowing. It was also surprisingly crowded. He saw Tara and Willow in a group of about seven people taking up an entire isle. They'd piled books on the table, and were quietly arguing over several open books. Tara herself was standing back a little, reading a book of her own.

Jones tapped his shoulder and gestured over to a table where Harkness and two other kids were setting up. The first was a blonde girl wearing a pink hoodie, the second was a boy as skinny as himself wearing a brown suit and trenchcoat.

The boy looked up as they neared and beamed. "Martha! Hello!" he hugged her, then she went over to help Harkness, "And nice to meet you two, I'm the Doctor. Weell, technically I'm the half-human clone, but I'm still the Doctor and I don't really want to rename myself so I suppose that will have to do. Funny business, metacrisis'. Metacrisees?" He spoke very fast.

Bucky backed away slowly. Steve boggled.

"Don't mind him," said the girl, "He's always like that. I'm Rose."

The boy, 'the Doctor' he supposed, pulled a face at her before turning back to the bookshelves.

"Steve. This is Bucky." He was vaguely reminded of Pepper and how she dealt with Tony's bullshit. He guessed Rose was this boy's best friend. They had that vibe.

She nodded, "Good to meet you. Feel free to sit down and grab a book. I'm no good at this part."

"That's alright," Steve said, sitting on one of the overstuffed chairs and grabbing a book off the pile, "We can't all be bookworms. I'm sure not."

The book's title was 'Magical Transportation and You'. This was going to be a long day. On the other hand, Bucky was already reading with singleminded purpose and taking notes, and who even knew where he'd got the paper from. Hydra: stealing and torturing best-friends to turn them into bookworm super-assassins since 1945.

The silence lasted about five minutes.

"Gah!" exclaimed the Doctor. The librarian gave him such a foul look that a pot plant died. "Sorry," he whispered.

Rose sighed, "What is it Doctor?"

"There are no records of any alien technology or recent history anywhere in the whole library. It's all about the magic used in this universe! Which is no help at all if the source of the relocation wasn't from this universe to begin with."

"But you know all the alien species and their tech."

"Well, yes, but it'll take forever to remember every single race and narrow down the list."

"You did it with the Slitheen," Rose pointed out.

"That was different, the perimeters were already preset! I had a framework to deal with, here I have nothing."

"Wait, sorry," Steve interjected, "Slithe-whatnow?"

"Slitheen. The big green aliens that took over Downing Street in, what was it 2005?"

He was still in ice at the time, but he'd seen no record of that either. "Those aliens anything like the ones who destroyed New York the year before last?"

"New York was destroyed?" The Doctor asked, surprised. Jones and Harkness looked up too.

"No, I don't think it was," said Jones, frowning.

"It definitely was, I was there, killing them and defending civilians. The Avengers, remember that? Captain America, Iron Man, Hulk?"

Harkness laughed, "Captain America? What kind of name is that?" Seeing the twin glares sent his way from both Steve and Bucky, he sobered quickly. Bucky went back to his reading.

"Wait a minute," said Rose, "Steve, do you remember the whole thing with the planets in the sky? The earth moved to another galaxy for a while?"

"No, but if it happened before 2012 I won't."

"That was bout, 2008 I think. But no one's mentioned it?"

"What about Miracle day?" Harkness asked, "2011, suddenly no one can die?"

Steve shook his head. If these events happened and no one even mentioned, then holy lord in heaven. Immortality? The whole planet moving to a different galaxy? And there were probably more things too, these were just the most recent. Holy shit.

"Doctor," said Rose, "What if he's from a different universe than ours? What if everyone who got zapped here is from a different universe?"

Bucky spoke up, "None of those things happened. I can confirm."

"Well, looks like that settles it," said the Doctor, "And we're looking for someone with dimension hopping capability. Off the top of my head that's Time Lords, Daleks, Cybermen, and Torchwood from Pete's World."

"Except that kind of implies that anyone with that kind of technology from any of the involved universes could also be the culprit," said Harkness.

The Doctor nodded slowly, "We're going to need to interview someone from every universe involved then."

"Well," Steve said, "The Asgardians have some pretty spectacular powers, you'd have to ask Thor for details though."

"He's here?"

"Yes, and his brother Loki. I would recommend avoiding Loki though, he's a homicidal maniac."

"Know what house he is?" asked Rose, "Thor I mean."

"Gryffindor. Same as me."

"Oh us too," said Rose, smiling, "Guess you can introduce us."


	7. [budding rose, howling wolf]

Regardless of that conversation, they spent the next several hours pouring over any book remotely relevant to their situation. Said situation was markedly bizarre even by Rose's standards, and she'd recently fought off a legion of giant carnivorous rabbits using only peanut butter and some string. That might've been weirder than this, but only a little bit.

Torchwood kept her busy that's for sure, but she was a field mission kind of girl. Research was never her thing. Still, it was quite the novelty to be in Hogwarts of all things. She liked the books, but she didn't know them off by heart like Martha did.

Steve and Bucky knew absolutely nothing, which was a bit bizarre considering how popular the series was, but they were from an alternate universe and Steve was apparently not around until 2012. There was a story there, but they had bigger problems for now.

Speaking of Bucky, the creepy boy had somehow found a file folder and had already filled it with notes, but he wouldn't let anyone look at them. When she'd tried, he'd banged his hand on the table inches from hers, making her jump about a foot even though it wasn't really that loud, and then glared. He also glared every time she went too close to Steve. He was kind of like an angry cat. It'd be funny if she wasn't a little bit completely terrified of him.

So far, her own research had come up with basically nothing. There wasn't a magic animal involved, she was sure of that. Brooms or apparation were out of the question, so the only thing it could be was a mass portkey of some kind. Which didn't seem likely considering that portkey travel was always described as really uncomfortable and leaving you travel sick if you weren't used to it. The only ill effect anyone had when they woke up in that room was suddenly being eleven.

Even the Doctor was at a loss, and that was saying something. Still, considering how many possible universes of suspects they had to sift through, it wasn't really surprising. They'd meet with Thor, who hopefully would be a big help, then see if they couldn't figure out just how many universes were involved, and go from there.

"All the maps are missing," said Bucky suddenly.

"What?"

"Auto-updating maps of the castle and its grounds were made. They're all missing."

"Well," said Martha, "Harry Potter should have the Marauders Map by now. We're pretty sure this is Year 4, yeah?"

"Why do you want them anyway?" asked Rose.

"We're trapped in unknown territory with unknown hostiles for an undetermined amount of time. Maps mean one less unknown to work with."

"Oh."

"Which dormitory is Harry Potter staying in?"

Now, Rose knew that Bucky knew nothing about Hogwarts, but it was still weird that he even had to ask that. Not to mention, since he didn't know, she wasn't sure she should tell him. He probably wanted to rob the boy or something, and considering how much use that map got, it'd change the course of the book a lot for it to go missing. And then what good would their knowing what will happen be?

"Gryffindor, fourth grade, boys," Martha said, ignorant of Rose's internal discussion.

Rose shot a glare at her anyway. Martha looked at her like she was crazy. Maybe she was by this point.

"Are we sure its such a good idea to take that map? Harry uses it a lot this year, if we take it that changes the course of history here." Rose said.

"So? You know how the books turn out, do you really want to leave the fate of this world in the hands of a hormonal 14 year old?" Martha replied, "We know what happens, and even if the specifics change we know what we're dealing with. No one else does."

Rose frowned. "You want to fix this timeline? Kill you-know-who instead of letting it play out?"

"That might not be easy," the Doctor piped in, "There's a prophecy at play and all. Not to mention that I'm not sure if we're actually inside the book and changing things already, or if this is more a projection of that world, or if Rowling somehow managed to perfectly record the events of a seperate universe and publish it as fiction and we're actually in that universe."

"So we don't know the consequences of changing things."

"But haven't we already changed things just by being here?" asked Steve, stretching as he put aside his books.

"There are points in time that are more important than others, little details like the amount of students can shift and change without affecting the stability of the overall timeline. Normally I can sense which parts are important and how important they are but since being changed into a human child I can't."

"We change things all the time, Doctor. We obviously aren't going to find out how we got here like this," Martha said gesturing to the stacks of open books and sheafs of parchment covered in inky scribbles.

She had a point, Rose thought. Every time there'd been a mystery in their adventures they'd always managed to solve it just by doing what they thought was right. This kind of booky research only worked when they needed to find a specific creature or weakness, not for stuff like this where they had basically no idea what they were looking for.

"E-excuse me," said an unfamiliar voice. Rose looked up at the newcomer, a mousy haired girl in a flowy skirt.

"Hello," said Jack, putting out his hand to shake, "Jack Harkness."

"Jack, stop it," said the Doctor, exasperated.

"I was just saying hello."

"Hello, I'm Tara MacLay," the girl said, bemused.

"Tara, hi, it's good to see you again," said Steve, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. Um, do any of you know where Bucky got this knife?" she asked, holding up the blade in question. It looked like a sharpened dinner knife.

"Bucky what-" Steve stopped as he looked around, "Where's Bucky?"

Both Bucky, and the file folder he'd been filling with secret notes, were gone. No one had even seen him move.

"He said he wanted to keep me safe, a-and that I should have something to defend myself, but this skirt doesn't have any pockets and wandering around a school holding a knife doesn't seem like a good idea."

"I think we can all agree on that," said Jack, taking the knife off the girl and wrapping it with a tough cloth he'd fished out of his coat. His pockets weren't actually infinite like the Doctors seemed to be, but the things he could find in there were sometimes ridiculous.

"Do you know where he went?" asked Steve.

"He headed out of the Library, he didn't say where he was going. Is he in trouble again?" Tara asked, concerned.

"No, I don't think so, but..."

"He seemed alright to me, Steve," said Martha, "I know an MD's not the same as a shrink, but he seemed fine. Strange and creepy, and very focused, but fine."

Steve frowned but nodded.

Rose turned to the Doctor.

"I've got class in a minute," said Jack, "It's Defense against the Dark Arts, I don't think I want to skip this one."

Rose nodded, "Moody."

"That's the one. I'll see you lot later," Jack said, giving Tara a grin before heading off.

"See you, Jack," said Rose. She turned to Tara, frowning, "Why would Bucky think you need a knife to be safe? We have wands now, we can all do magic."

A strange smile flitted across Tara's face, "He doesn't know anything about this world, remember. He probably didn't even think about magic. We don't know any spells yet anyway."

Rose nodded, "That's true."

"We should go speak to Thor now," The Doctor said, packing up his own books. Perhaps he'd finally had enough too.

"He'll probably still be in the Common Room," said Steve.

"I'm going to keep researching. I'm a Ravenclaw, so its probably best I don't go invading other Houses Common Rooms just yet," said Martha, eyeing the Restricted Section.

"You can come if you want, you're a friend, the portrait will let you in. What, are friends and brothers and sisters and stuff just supposed to not visit each other once they're Sorted?" Rose said, putting her hands on her hips. 

The last thing she wanted was for Martha to start feeling left out. There was tension between them already, although it had lessened since Martha had married Mickey. That was weird. But in lots of ways Martha still felt like she'd been The Doctor's 'Rose Replacement', rather than a proper companion, and even though her crush was gone it would definitely still sting that Rose now had her very own Doctor. Especially since the Still-A-Full-Time-Lord Doctor had almost certainly regenerated by now.

She *liked* Martha, she wanted them to be friends without all that baggage between them.

Martha considered, biting her lip in thought. She looked over at where the Restricted Section was again and then nodded at Rose. "Alright, I'll come with you. The part of the library I think we'll need is off-limits anyway."

Rose grinned.

The Gryffindor Common Room was mostly, but not completely, empty. A few students were scattered about, lounging on the plush chairs in front of the fireplace or sitting at the tables that lined the walls.

Martha had moved further into the room and was talking quietly to a boy with shoulder length dark hair. His back was to her, but the set of his shoulders seemed familiar.

Thor was a large boy, tall, muscular, and broad shouldered. His hair was blonde and cropped short, and he had a solid black metal eyepatch covering his right eye. He was also endlessly polite. Honestly Rose really wasn't sure how she had missed him yesterday, he was a pretty noticeable boy.

"Asgard has many technologies and magics, and we know of many worlds who have indeed more," Thor was saying, "The Bifrost is our main method of travel between the nine realms, it is a bridge that connects two chosen points in space. Though I have not heard of any means of traveling to a world which exists only in a story."

"It is possible," said the Doctor, "That this is a parallel universe that J K Rowling tapped into or just coincidently wrote about, a million monkeys with typewriters, you know."

"Asgard has no means of traveling to other universes, although we have had travelers from such from time to time. Loki may know more."

"I suppose we can capture and interrogate him. For all we know, this is his fault anyway," grumbled Steve.

"Steve, I can assure you that, in this instance at least, my brother is not responsible," Thor said, "Even if he were capable, he would not do such a thing."

"How can you say that? How can you have such blind faith in him? You know what he did, you were there when he unleashed the Chitauri!"

"Indeed I was, Captain. But a great deal has happened since."

Steve visibly bit back something, eyeing his friend again. "I can see that," he said, his voice hard.

"What are the Chitauri?" Rose asked, warily hoping to stop any argument before it began.

Steve sighed, "The aliens who destroyed New York I was talking about earlier."

"Regardless, we should attempt to resolve our current situation as quickly as possible. I for one do not enjoy being defenseless," said Thor.

"That's what we're trying to do," said Steve, exasperated.

"We can always actually attend the classes and learn some magic, it might help," said Rose.

"Perhaps we ought to meet this Loki then," said the Doctor, putting his hands in his pockets, "Even if he isn't exactly trustworthy it seems like he'll have some valuable input for us."

Rose turned as out the corner of her eye she saw someone run past. Martha stopped and stared at Rose a moment, her arms full of parchment, before running out the door. Rose frowned. What the hell was Martha playing at?


End file.
